Beautiful Fascination
by Emochromatic
Summary: She was an idol to him; a distant goddess he looked upon from afar and strove to comprehend. Even when they broke her, understanding eluded him, and she passed from his thoughts... until now. SzayelxNeliel. Alternate plotline. Melancholy/dark
1. From Ashes

She was beautiful, with her long mane of curling green hair the color of peridot. Only she could carry it off so well, that shade that would look so cheap and artificial on everyone else. Not even Starrk's little brat looked good, even if hers was natural. Then again, Lilynette also dressed like an underage hooker, so she really wasn't the best comparison.

Perhaps then, when Nnoitra had come to him seeking his help to rid himself of the Tercera Espada, that was why he'd agreed. The lure of ensnaring such a divine creature, of watching her break and fall from grace… it was haunting. She was so compassionate, so unlike the rest of them. Aloof, but not arrogant. Powerful, but with a childish naïveté and belief in the inherent good in every creature. And it fascinated him; an obsession to understand the way she thought, the things that motivated her. She, who seemed to have regained some of that lost humanity they'd all originally stemmed from. More sociable than the other Arrancar, but to him, a distant goddess.

She was a warrior. She never once looked his way, her eyes always fixed on Nnoitra. To her, he was nothing. Dust beneath her feet. Just another power hungry Número in Hueco Mundo who'd happened to gain and lose the rank of Espada. And even when he'd destroyed her, watched her body thrown from the ramparts of Las Noches, her eyes were still fixed on the other. Her own, star-crossed obsession. Standing there, a rose-haired specter in a white lab coat, he felt not satisfaction in his triumph but disappointment. That even now, he remained obscure.

Nnoitra's callous dismissal of their partnership smarted, though he didn't let his neutral smile fade for an instant. It didn't matter in the end. He'd expected as much from the treacherous former Octava, brutish man that he was. He hadn't even had the grace to pretend he'd tolerated accepting his assistance. The whole time he'd grit his teeth so hard, it was a wonder his jaw didn't crack from the strain. He half hoped it would; anything to wipe the undeservingly smug smile off his lips. _He_ hadn't felled the Tercera; he'd only delivered the finishing blow. And yet he called this a victory while Szayel, the true arbitrator, settled for the hollow dregs of a job not perfectly concluded. In the end, it was this bitter taste of imperfection that lingered with him, long after the memory of her face, bloody and beaten, left his mind.

-.-.-.-.-.-

He shuffled his papers, pulling the documents with their precious diagrams into a neat pile. Aizen had been pleased with the prototype he'd designed. A few more adjustments in the bracelet's ability to mask spiritual energy, and it would be ready. It had been a project Aizen had commissioned specifically several months back for some nefarious purpose of his own. What he intended for the delicate, silver piece of jewelry, Szayel did not know. Nor did he particularly care; once he'd worked out the final issues with the design, it would be just another project- successfully completed. No longer of interest.

"Hey Halli_baby_. What'cha doin' tonight?" sounded Nnoitra's voice, slick with ulterior motives and unspoken innuendos. He didn't have to voice them all the time; just looking at his face with its perpetual, sinister grin, you got the impression that he had plans to chloroform you in some dark corridor and ravage your unconscious body. And that tongue… that vile, slimy appendage with its 5 tattoo was in constant motion, almost serpentine. Everything about him was oily and faintly nauseating, and Szayel made a point to only interact with the Quinta when absolutely necessary.

A pity then that he sat across from him at meetings. Though Nnoitra generally ignored him in favor of pestering the new Tercera Tia Hallibel, there were occasions when he'd grow bored with Hallibel's rejections and the Quinta would turn to him for amusement.

"Nothing that involves you, Jiruga," the typically tacit female replied, and left the table without a backward glance, arms crossed in their usual position just under her chest. Nnoitra watched her leave and whistled to her back, knowing it would bait no reaction out of her.

"Bitch," he said, but he didn't seem too angry. More… excited. Deprived of his favorite target, he turned on the pink haired scientist, who was readying himself to leave as well and leaned in towards him with an unpleasant leer.

"What about you, Granz? You busy? You hardly ever leave yer lab. We oughta go… drinkin' sometime. See what a lightweight you are. Get wasted."

Szayel offered him a prim look as he rose, sliding his documents under one arm.

"I find alcohol distasteful as it both impairs judgment and destroys brain cells. Of which I have plenty to spare, but I'd rather not stoop to your level, Quinta-san."

Nnoitra scowled, eyes narrowing.

"Go fuck yourself, Octava. Come off your high horse already and realize you're only the _eighth_ just in case ya hadn't noticed. Some one of these days, someone's gonna drag you off your fuckin' pedestal, and I'm gonna laugh my ass off when that finally happens."

Szayel offered him a sweet smile, biting back hostile words in favor of a condescending barb he knew would incense him more.

"That's only if they can _reach_ me. Good day, Jiruga."

Sweeping out of the room, he left him stewing at the table; a dark brooding cess of resentment.

He probably shouldn't have provoked the Quinta the way he did, dropping his wry, mocking commentary in reply to the other man's occasional suggestive offers, but he really had no patience to word petty trivialities he didn't really feel to spare his _ego_ of all things. No, he would not end up the same way Nel had, and they both knew this. He knew how Nnoitra worked, and would not be entrapped so easily; Szayel did not form weak, foolish attachments to anyone. His Fraccion were all expendable, he made sure of that. Nnoitra could not back him into a corner; he was indeed untouchable.

Nel… He paused, indulging nostalgia that had washed over him briefly. A name he hadn't thought about in ages. But just the one word was enough to draw old disappointments to the surface. They oozed up from the depths of his mind, black as tar and heavy as sin. He rolled the name around his tongue, savoring its ashen taste. Like lye; acrid. The flavor of expectations torched by failure, and these were ashes he'd risen from reluctantly. A part of his past he'd managed to shed, but with difficulty. It was never easy to accept a shortcoming.

Somewhere outside the white walls of Las Noches, she roamed the stark deserts of Hueco Mundo with her two disgraced Fraccion. A child, running free through the moonlit dunes and stunted, crystalline trees. Was she happy, free from the politics of Aizen's hostile domain? Did he resent what cards they'd dealt her the day they'd stripped her of her pinions and cast her out to die?

Nostalgia morphed into a curious longing. A desire that had not afflicted the clinical Arrancar in decades. The chill night air of Hueco Mundo called to him, with its bare, arid beauty. Nnoitra, though abrasive and crude, was right. He hardly ever left his lab, and suddenly the idea of spending another evening hunched over one of his many experiments- metallic table lit by industrial halogen lights -seemed unbearably oppressive. Quickening his stride, he made it to his wing and entered, pausing inside only long enough to deposit his stack of papers before exiting again. The hallways now seemed claustrophobic; their white, marble corridors bleaker than ever, and when he finally ascended a stair case from the underbelly of the palace that opened out onto the endless expanse of desert that surrounded them, it was a relief.

Szayel inhaled the crisp night air- it was always night here, though they could fool themselves temporarily with barriers and spells to mimic daylight –bitter with cold. In a sunless world, the temperatures were always frigid, but as Arrancar, their bodies could tolerate the chill. They did not truly live, so warmth was an inconsequential thing. Though curiously, it was never below freezing. Something else warmed the shadowy world that he was not aware of.

Not for the first time in his conscious existence, he wondered at the dead, dark sky that loomed over them unchanging. No stars lit up the sable mantle, only a crescent moon, wan and distant. As if life itself had forsaken their isolated purgatory. Hueco Mundo; hole world. A place just as hollow as its inhabitants.

Szayel swept a hand through his bangs, fingers brushing the rosy strands out of his bespectacled face. His skin appeared even more drawn out here, leached of the faint blush that colored his skin under the sunlight dome. His feet skimmed over the sand, raising a fine, powdery cloud behind him as he blurred, an insubstantial ghost using his Sonido. And yet, in this landscape, he hardly appeared to be moving. His sense of perspective was completely skewed out here where, without the order Las Noches imposed, time and distance was rendered obsolete. There was only a sense of nothingness. A vast and humbling nothingness.

The scientist slowed, then shivered to a halt as he considered this revelation. Out here, with nothing to measure himself against, his existence suddenly seemed very tenuous. The apathy, the sheer uncaring void that engulfed him, was incomprehensible. It was immense. One lost their soul in this desert. They were consumed by the madness that inevitably afflicted them in this unchanging eternity, their identities gradually eroded over time and morals stripped from them, all without ever realizing the nature of the downward spiral they were caught up in until long after they'd been spat out. Becoming a Hollow did not kill one's humanity; the eons of silence did.

He took a step forward, but then paused again, suddenly inexplicably tired. What was there out here? The black and white triad of moon, sky, and earth? Hollows somewhere, ranging aimlessly across this remote canvas? His experiments were all he had in this place. All that was worth having, confined to his lab with its clinical, harsh lighting and sanitized décor. An emotionless aesthetic, as distant as the rest of Las Noches itself. It may have even rivaled Ulquiorra for dispassion, and if his only passion was so removed, so insular… then what did that make him?

Szayel stood, ankles surrounded by the shifting, powdery sand, gazing out blankly over the stark landscape, then slowly turned around and began to march back in the direction of the distant silhouette of Las Noches. The empty stretch that yawned at his back made his skin prickle slightly, but he didn't speed up. There was nothing to hurry towards and nothing to run from; only the fears and uncertainties that coiled and writhed in his mind as Hueco Mundo threatened the fragile identity he'd built for himself from faded memories of a past life and the relentless hunger of the present.

And that, perhaps, was why he caught the laughter when he hadn't before, flying through the dunes as a naught more than a flickering figure propelled by Sonido. It was a clear, joyous trill that broke the monotony of the endless night. It was difficult to pinpoint from where the sound had originated due to the odd acoustics of his surroundings. But after a few seconds of sweeping the terrain, his golden eyes fixed upon a small moving figure in a pea green, ragged gown, streaking across the desert.

Short, peridot curls bobbed in the slipstream of her running…

"Haha! Pesche! Dondochakka! You guyths'll never cathch me!" she shouted, a peculiar lisp garbling her words.

Szayel stared, hardly believing his eyes. Nel, in the flesh. With the whole of Hueco Mundo to traverse, he'd found her here. And it wasn't long until the child, with her gaptoothed grin, noticed him as well. How could she not when he stood like a slender statue, watching her? The little girl- it was hard to fathom she and the statuesque beauty that was Neliel Tu were the same –slowed, pausing for a moment before she cautiously approached him.

"Hey Mishter. Why're ya thtaring at me? It'th kinda creepy."

The Octava blinked, completely taken aback by her forwardness. This was certainly no completely naïve creature; she knew a bit about the world, enough to be rightfully wary of him. Yet she still drew up to him, curious. She had that openness of childhood, where she couldn't really comprehend that bad things could befall her. The world was still a romp; she hadn't been soiled yet.

He realized with a jolt that she didn't recognize him. Or perhaps, she didn't remember? Had she lost more than just her powers when Nnoitra had broken her mask? Crouching so that he appeared to be less of an intimidating figure, he addressed her.

"Because I wasn't expecting to run into anyone out here."

She crinkled her nose, staring up at him with clear, gray eyes.

"Me'n my brothers live out here," she declared proudly, sweeping her small arms around to indicate the vast expanse around them, "We playth eternal tag all over. Theresh no spashe to run out of."

An eternity of tag, chasing after each other like mindless idiots. He didn't exactly see the appeal. The scientist guessed she meant her Fraccion when she said brothers, unless she truly believed them to be her siblings? The old curiosities flared. How much did she know, or not know? What had her Fraccion told her or kept from her? She seemed… so happy. Free from the melancholy that had haunted her as an Espada. She'd hid it well, but he'd still picked it out during his surreptitious observations of her. No, not a hint of resentment in her body now. She was truly at bliss.

And he found this intriguing; her happiness. How was it, why was it that she was content here? Because she didn't know any better? Because she was a simple person? Or was it something he lacked? Normal emotion, he was told, was something that escaped him. He didn't think or feel like the others. As if he was autistic in that regard.

"Well I live in Las Noches, the big white palace back a ways," he replied in an innocuous, conversational tone. Her eyes widened a little, and she started babbling.

"Me'n my brothersh aren't doing anythin' wrongth, Mishter! Pleash don't kill and eat ush, since we're not very good eatsh 'cuz we're not very shtrong and-"

"I intend to do nothing of the sort. I'm not a barbarian like Yammy or Nnoitra," he interjected, and would have continued his mildly comforting reassurance if not for the appearance of two figures shouting for their ward.

"Nelilel!"

"Ani-chan!" she cried happily, tackling a skinny male Arrancar with violet skin and a- he noticed with distaste –loincloth. A larger, bulkier Arrancar with a totemic mask reminiscent of the Easter Island heads on Earth, lumbered after him at a pace he would have believed impossible for his size if he hadn't seen it himself. Szayel straightened with a smirk as they looked at him fearfully. They recognized him even if she didn't.

"Theeth are my brotherth, Pesche-"

"Gautiche and Dondochakka Bilstin. Yes. I remember you two, even if you changed your masks. I never forget a face," he interrupted smoothly. She goggled at him while her two Fraccion shifted nervously.

"How do you knowth my brotherth nameth?" she asked, wide eyed. He smiled.

"Because I know you, Neliel Tu Oderschvank. You used to live in Las Noches."

"Wha-?" she started, confusing, "But I've alwayth lived here with my brotherth."

"I am afraid that isn't the truth," he informed her with a perverse sense of satisfaction, "And as a matter of fact, you used to be-"

"Nel, don't listen to this guy. He's not a good person," Pesche interrupted tersely.

"I have a name and a title, Fraccion," the scientist remarked with irritation, "Szayel Aporro Granz, Octava Espada. Remember it, and do not interrupt me again."

"Espada?" Gautiche echoed nervously, "You're an Espada again?"

"So it would appear."

"Pesche," Nel said anxiously, "Wath goin' on?"

"Nothing!" he replied, panicking when Szayel laughed at her question.

"So you two have been lying to her all these years? She lost her memories, and so you created a fantasy world for her to live in instead?"

"We did it to protect her! Nel-sama was so unhappy. It was a chance…"

His voice broke as he saw Neliel's expression, hurt and bewildered. Pesche's fragile composure shattered completely when she lisped in that high, youthful voice, her sentiments of betrayal.

"Nel-thama? You… called me thama? Aren't we family?"

"Nel, of course we are. I…"

Tears welled in her smoky eyes.

"You guyth lied to me? To protect me? From what? Who am I? And who are you?"

"Would you like to find out?" Szayel offered casually, casting her a dubious lifeline. A deal with the devil.

"Neliel, don't trust him," Dondochakka said, speaking up. He waved his massive paws of hands in a vaguely flighty fashion, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with them.

"Like you two did?" Szayel pointed out cruelly, amber eyes glittering with amusement at this game behind his cold, scholarly spectacles. Looking at Nel, he spoke to her in his most dulcet, charismatic tone. "I promise you one thing, and that is that I will not lie to you. If you come with me, you will learn the truth."

"Neliel… don't," Pesche pleaded, tense, and Nel did exactly what he'd hoped she would. Feeling alienated from what she'd considered her family, a maelstrom of doubt filling her with questions, and a deal from a stranger with answers she couldn't pass up… she shook her head. Refusing. _Accepting_.

"No," she said seriously, and somehow she managed to pull the expression off as well, "I wanna know. I'm goin' wif Szshayel to find out the truth… and I'll come back when I have."

She'd come back. How sweet. How marvelously innocent of her. He looked to her Fraccion and saw they knew as she placed her small hand in his larger one that this was not a pact she would walk out of so easily, but they couldn't do a thing. She lay under the piper's sway now, helpless to his fickle whims while he played his tune.

And how fickle the Octava was; the whimsy of the mad moved him. His narrow fingers closed around hers triumphantly; his failure, come back as possibility. The ultimate karmic compensation. Laughing, he picked her up playfully, and she looked startled by his strange exuberance before frowning again suspiciously.

"Mithter, you're _really_ creepy," she informed him, her deadpan tone coming across as more comical than stern due to her speech impediment.

"I know," he replied flippantly, "I've been told as much before."

Then the world blurred around them as he fell into Sonido once more; only the feel of her secure in his arms, at long last, was solid.

* * *

**A/N:**

No I am not mad. It is not the apocalypse; I am writing a pairing other than NnoitraxSzayel, as I promised I would. You have Xylexia to blame for this; she gave me the idea one evening while I was bemoaning the fact I wanted to write some oneshots. I asked her to give me a list of pairings to write; this one struck my fancy, because it had the capability of becoming something very twisted and melancholy, which I wanted to write. And then I read the most amazing characterization of Szayel that isn't even a fic... and I had to write this more than ever.

Though I wanted to write a oneshot, this won't be one. But it will not be a long fic; no more than a handful of chapters, and none of them will be more than 7k. So here goes a SzayxNel shortfic... in which I get to explore Szayel's dominant, obsessive, controlling nature more, free of mushy romance. (Har har... I call FP mushy romance... just tells you how far gone I am)

I call her hair color peridot because it was a lighter shade of green in the manga I think... more yellow green than blue green. And I feel peridot sounds prettier than blue green. I guess I could have said teal, but that implies more blue... *Fusses pointlessly* Yes, I use the "incorrect" romanizations. I like how they sound better. Read and review if you like it so far; I'll have another chapter up at some point this month.

(By the by, if you ever want me to write a oneshot/short fic for a pairing you are interested to see more of, feel free to drop me a friendly PM and I will consider it and get back to you on whether or not I'd be willing to do it. :3)


	2. Bitter Truths

It was hard to believe it; that she was his. That for the first time, all her attention was fixed solely on him. Not Nnoitra. Not her Fracción. Just him. And the feeling was divine; a heady thrill that propelled his steps through the desert, making the time it took to return to his lab seem negligible. For what was time to them? No longer a valuable commodity to be spent wisely when they had all of eternity. With the limitations of their own mortality surpassed, time served him only as a variable in his experiments. Just a factor, easily catalogued away.

Well… there was one downside to time. One aspect to it that he couldn't ignore, for it came back to haunt him every now and then. An unpleasant companion during the times he would finish an experiment and wonder what next to investigate, or the unwelcome visitor when he had downtime between projects to wait for his results to manifest. And that was boredom; a debilitating ennui that afflicted him whenever he slowed down and stopped to actually think about what he was doing. It was one reason he tolerated the whole organization of Las Noches and served Aizen willingly. Eagerly. Because Aizen gave him purpose in a purposeless world, and that was a powerful attraction. As a Hollow, he'd lived day to day with survival as his only goal. He was, like every other being that walked the deserts of Hueco Mundo, a slave to the hunger that fueled them. That desire had been his ambition, and the fear of he himself being devoured was a driving force to seek power, because if he could evolve, then he could live, and living was an all-consuming process.

What Aizen had done for them was to put an end to that struggle. He halted their regression and evolution permanently with his hogyoku crystal, and he gave them a new reason to live. Serve him, fight for him, worship him as their god… and he would save them from the emptiness inside them all. It was that confidence that they all were enamored of, some more than others. Those with the least sense of self had fallen the hardest.

Maybe that was why he had felt a similar attraction to Nelliel. If inner strength was what drew him irresistibly, then perhaps that was the reason for his fascination with her. It was what had pissed Nnoitra off so much about her, that she could be so strong and yet still try to instill that strength in others. He fought with her often, always striving to defeat her and prove to himself his own worth, because she disdained his philosophy. She pitied him, and he resented her for it. Because she didn't understand. In encouraging him to improve himself, she didn't understand that she was spitting on all that he was.

It was what Szayel loved. What he followed her for, always watching. Waiting for her to show weakness; the internal scars they all bore. But she never seemed to falter. She never grew bitter or jaded. In fact, it was almost the opposite. She thrived, laughing and playing games with her Fracción. Not at all like the other Espada. It was only sometimes he saw hints of the darkness inside of her, when Aizen would send her on missions to handle the upstart Hollows who resisted his takeover. It hurt her to be a weapon, for she cherished life. She was grateful to Aizen for restoring her humanity, and that was all.

"Szhayel? Where are we?" the child in his arms asked hesitantly, and he was pulled from his reflections. His amber eyes flickered down to her smoky gray, which stared up at him with youthful innocence, and he slowed.

"We're in one of the corridors of my wing. Just another minute and we'll arrive," he informed her. The labyrinth of his complex was all but impossible to breach since he could shift the passages at will. Not to mention there were traps scattered throughout. All in all, it made visiting the Octava an unappealing endeavor, though now and then someone would brave the journey. Usually it was a messenger with a request from Aizen or one of the other two Shinigami. More rarely, one of the Espada would drop by. Of this crowd, the only one suicidal enough to bother with repeat visits was Nnoitra. He seemed to derive a sick pleasure from tempting fate repeatedly, grinning like a madman when he took damage. Szayel was convinced the primary reason for his occasional visits was running the gamut of his trapped hallways.

Arriving at the entrance to his lab, Szayel swept inside, savoring the sound of the door closing behind him with sweet finality. The deed was done. She was here. And if he had any say in matters, she would not leave until he'd tired of her. But Szayel held a dubious code of honor when it suited him, and he'd made a promise to her that he would explain to her whatever she wanted to know regarding her past. So carrying her to his parlor, where he entertained his sporadic visitors and kept them out of his laboratories, he set her down on a micro-suede violet sofa and drew up a matching ottoman across from her to sit on. She swung her legs idly, looking around the room before returning her attention to him.

"Nice pwathe ya got," she commented, and he smiled faintly.

"This is probably the nicest part of it all. So, Nelliel-san, what do you want to know?"

Nel made a face at the honorific, shaking her head slightly.

"No titles. I don't like them."

"Is Nel ok?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Yeah… Nel's good. I guess… Thtart with who I wath?"

"Who you were…"

He paused to gather his thoughts, mentally discarding the details he wished to withhold from her as he crafted a reply.

"Well, to begin why don't I tell you a little bit about the rank system here in Las Noches? At the very top is Lord Aizen who rules all of us Arrancar. He is the one who made us what we are, including you and Pesche and Dondochakka. Close to him are his two advisers, Gin Ichimaru and Kaname Tousen. Next in power are the ten most powerful Arrancar in Las Noches who are ranked zero to nine in strength, with the higher numbers getting progressively weaker. These Arrancar are called the Espada, and they are responsible for maintaining order in Las Noches. As such, they have privileges. They can have their own suites inside of Las Noches whereas the other Arrancar have single rooms, they can command the lesser Numeros and Privaron Espada, and they have their own self picked subordinates who serve them directly; Fracción. Numeros are the unaligned Arrancar, and Privaron Espada are former Espada who have been replaced.

You, Nel, are technically a Privaron Espada. You were a former Espada; the Tercera Espada, until your position was stripped from you and you were cast out from Las Noches along with your disgraced Fracción."

He stopped here, taking in her wide-eyed expression as she absorbed this information. Her thoughts were so transparent as they played across her face; wonder at her former rank, and confusion at what had happened to make her lose it so abruptly. He knew the question she would ask before she voiced it.

"Why? Why'd I loothe my rank?"

Szayel reached over, fingertips brushing the scar that marred the bridge of her nose. They traveled up slowly, skimming over her broken mask with its missing tooth; gaptoothed like the child who wore it. At her suspicious, nervous look, he withdrew his hand, threading it with the other in his lap as he straightened up again.

"Have you ever wondered where you got that scar from, Nel? Or the crack in your mask? You didn't always have them. You see… you had a rival. The former Octava, Nnoitra Gilga, who is now currently the Quinta. You didn't consider him your rival because you didn't think of him as a warrior. You pitied him for his brutal, violent nature. Because his reason for living was to kill and prove himself in battle; and he resented you for it because no matter how hard he tried and how many times he fought you, he never succeeded in defeating you. It didn't help that he was chauvinistic. He was probably from an era where women were without rights of their own, and he saw them as inferior. It infuriated him that you, a woman, would beat him so easily.

And so… one day, Nnoitra got tired of losing. Despite his pride, he sought help from another Arrancar and he managed to defeat you, using your Fracción as the bait. He tore their masks off, and you being the compassionate person that you are were angered and avenged them. Or you tried. Nnoitra lured you into an illusion trap his assistant prepared. You fell for the illusory version of him, and he dispatched you while you were off guard, or would have if your Hierro weren't so strong.

Head cracked, he threw you off the walls of Las Noches to join your Fracción, but a strange thing happened. Nel… you weren't always a child. In fact, you were once very beautiful. But from what I can tell, your reishi escaped through the crack in your mask and your spiritual body shrank to what it is now. It seems to have stabilized at this size and age, but your true form is much different. You lost your rank when you went missing, and a new Tercera was installed in your place."

"So… Nnoitra did thith to me?" she asked, though it was more of a rhetorical question than anything else. He could see the hurt in her eyes and lingering confusion despite his explanation. Why anyone would do such a terrible thing. It was amusing to him. She understood the world could be frightfully cruel, that the strong devoured the weak. She'd cowered when he'd told her where he came from. And yet, she still couldn't comprehend the hatred the Quinta felt for her. Perhaps because in her sheltered life, she'd never experienced hatred.

"Yes," Szayel replied quietly, for lack of anything better to say. She looked at him searchingly, legs no longer swinging, though they still dangled off the edge of the couch.

"And… where do you come into thith? Why do you know so much Szhayel?" the girl lisped. His lips quirked upwards; he'd wondered if she'd ask, and had already thought up his reply. It left his tongue smoothly; no hesitation, no hitch. An easy half truth.

"I make it a point to keep myself informed on the goings on of Las Noches. Many of my compatriots do not care, but I find opportunity presents itself to those who keep an eye and an ear open for it. And I also benefited from your betrayal directly, Nel. Because Nnoitra overthrew you, there was an opening in the Espada hierarchy. Ranks were shuffled and I was promoted to Octava, Nnoitra's old spot."

"Oh…" she said faintly, shifting in her seat. "Ith he… is he happy now?"

Szayel stared. He couldn't help it. Her question took him completely by surprise.

_Is he happy now?_

Nel was possibly the only person he could name, aside from Tesla, who would consider such a thing, let alone voice it. Was Nnoitra happy? What a ridiculous thought. And it was rich, coming from Nel. The person he'd destroyed.

_Is he happy now?_

"I doubt that anything could make that man happy," Szayel remarked almost absently, still mulling over the novel concept she'd presented him.

"Why?"

_Why?_

"Because he delights only in fleeting pleasures. A good fuck, alcohol, the adrenaline rush of a fight. He's happy only when his blood is singing in his veins and he's spilling that of his enemy's, and when he's done, he's left with the sour dregs of his fading high. I think the only moment he will find fulfillment is when he finally dies on the battlefield."

"That'th very sad… he doesn't have anyone he loveth?"

"Love?"

Szayel quirked an eyebrow, leaning in. It was an emotion he knew well; a persistent enigma he'd never managed to decipher. It wasn't devotion; that was different. Devotion could exist without love. He was, for example, devoted to Aizen. But love, caring… these were alien to him. He couldn't care less about his Fracción; they were tools and nothing more. His peers? Superiors and subordinates. Purely relationships of necessity. Yet here was this child who mourned Nnoitra's sad existence and asked if he didn't love someone? If he didn't care about someone?

"Yeah," she replied simply, prompting him. Szayel gathered himself, posing a more coherent answer.

"He has a Fracción named Tesla, whose eye he took. From what I understand, that is not love."

She blanched at this, clearly envisioning the pain he must have gone through and sympathizing with him. Even if she'd never met him and had no clue what he looked like. A name was enough to win her concern; a name and a snippet of backstory.

"Why would he do that? I would never do that to Pesche and Dondochakka!" she cried, agitated.

"Because Tesla belongs to him. Because it was a way to test Tesla's loyalty to him. And because it's a mark of regard. Whatever Nnoitra feels for his Fracción, there is a sort of twisted bond between them. Nnoitra himself has just one eye. He took the eye opposite to his missing one from Tesla."

Nel still looked pale at his emotionless explanation, but she dropped the topic of Nnoitra. What she was learning about the Quinta was not sitting well with her, and it was a course of action he approved of. He really couldn't care less about Nnoitra and wouldn't have bothered with him if he hadn't been such a big part of her past. Instead, to his surprise, she turned the focus of her questions to him.

"What about you? Ith there anyone you care about? Do you have Fracción?"

"I have the most Fracción of all the Espada here, but I do not care for them. They do what I tell them to do because they exist entirely for me. You see, I make my servants. They lack their own personalities and wills. I have no patience for emotion and insubordination in my wing."

If it was possible, she looked even more horrified at this proclamation than any explanation he'd given of Nnoitra.

"You… make people?" she asked haltingly, and Szayel shrugged.

"Yes. Designed to be precisely what I need."

Nel shuddered.

"You can't make people."

"But I do."

"Thoshe aren't people! People have feelingth!"

"Oh they can feel. They have nervous systems after all," he commented wryly, tilting his head in an avian fashion at her evident distress. Really, he didn't see why it was such a big fuss, but it obviously bothered her. Perhaps because she was so close with her own Fracción and she considered his detachment as alien as he considered her attachment to be.

Nel shot him a look that was part alarm and part disgust as she slid off her perch and stood, marching up to him and fisting her hands on her hips to lecture him fiercely.

"Feelingth!" she insisted with her ridiculous little speech impediment, "Not pain and heat and cold. Emotionth! You can't be a perthon unless you care about thingth!"

Szayel leaned in, smile broadening, though it didn't reach his eyes. It was a frigid smile; cold and clinical. Absolutely merciless as he refuted her reasoning with something akin to satisfaction.

"Well then, I guess that means I'm not a person either."

She looked up at him, mouth slightly open as her righteous anger was replaced by a chill of fear. Dawning comprehension of what the man before her was like. And it frightened her. More than the accounts of Nnoitra's hatred. This was something she truly couldn't comprehend. He watched the revelation hit her, how her little body tensed. If he held a stethoscope to her chest, he knew he would hear her heart beating at an elevated rate and her breathing becoming shallower and quicker as the adrenaline hit her bloodstream.

It was an endearing sight.

"I want to go," Nel said, a slight tremor to her voice. Nearly undetectable really; she was doing a splendid job in acting calm. But she couldn't fool Szayel.

"You know, when Aizen inducted me into the ranks of the Espada, he gave me an epithet. He gave us all epithets, our aspects of Death. You were Sacrifice. I am Madness. I find that somewhat amusing, since I generally consider myself to be quite sane," he commented instead. His tone was light, almost playful, and he even laughed a little.

Nel's hands tightened into fists in response, which shook slightly as she repeated her desire a little more desperately this time.

"I want to go," the girl insisted. And again, he ignored her in favor of his musing.

"But perhaps he was referring to the way I view others? I'm told my way of thinking isn't quite right. That there is something wrong with me. Which I still think doesn't constitute as insanity. That allegation is a little harsh, don't you think?"

"Take me back!" she yelled, nerves finally breaking, and this time Szayel stopped his teasing self-reflection to address her panic at last. Amber eyes gleaming behind his glasses, he gave her a one-word reply.

"No."

Nel fled.

He followed, though not immediately, standing and walking after her at a leisurely pace. She flew for the door, hands reaching for the knob and twisting… but to no avail. He'd locked it surreptitiously on his way in. Desperate, she flung herself at it, but it was a heavy beast, built to withstand abuse from abusive visitors.

"Now Nel, please don't act wild. You'll bruise yourself," he cajoled. She whirled around, pressing up against the door like a cornered animal.

"I want my brotherth! Let me go!" she demanded, and he offered her an amused smile.

"Now why would I do that? I did you a favor by telling you about your past. It's only fair you do me one in return."

"What do you want?"

He drew up to her, crouching in front of her again as he'd done in the dunes. His voice came out sweet and light, but his words were something else. Cruel. Dark. At odds with his entire attitude.

"To understand what makes you tick. To take you apart and break you down and maybe… if you're good to me, to put you back together again. I want you, what makes you Nel."

He emphasized his point by prodding her playfully, and she promptly broke down into tears.

"Pleathe don't, Mithter. Pleathe let me go Szhayel," she pleaded with him, and wiping away her tears idly, he shook his head. Nel tensed again, ready to flee. This time, he never gave her the opportunity. Before she could slip away from him again, he released his reiatsu, directing the full strength of it down on her head. She crumpled, too weak to resist, and after struggling briefly under the suffocating weight, passed out. He reigned his spiritual pressure back in as she went limp, scooping her up in his arms.

How fragile she was in this form. Truly nothing like the Nelliel he'd known in strength. But her personality was similar. She still held that same inner strength, those same convictions… even if they'd been momentarily shaken. They'd broken her body, but her spirit was intact. The damage Nnoitra had inflicted hardly mattered.

It came as more of a relief to him than it should have. Kissing her scarred forehead, he carried her out of the parlor and into the inner sanctum of his lab.

* * *

**A/N:** I write them this way because I love them.

… Not really. It's because this is my sick little angsty indulgence. Excuse me while I go write fluff for another one of my fics… oh wait, that one currently has a semi angsty chapter. Crap. Um… oh, I can go write my crack fic. Yeah, that'll work. *Cheers up*

So, a few disclaimers are due because I realized how this fic might get interpreted. No, it isn't going to turn into a loli fic. For those of you unfamiliar with the term loli/lolicon, it is the attraction to and fetishism of young prepubescent girls. Which Nel currently is. From a legal point of view, this applies to underage girls as well, but I'm not going to get into that.

Hmm… what else to say? I guess I find it slightly ironic that the first heterosexual pairing fic I wrote is like this. And I have nothing against het, I just happen to write slash mostly. Watch, it will creep in too.

Mmyes. Hopefully I am keeping people in character. I'd like Nel to be spunkier, but Szayel kind of puts a damper on things. I blame it on his creepiness. Which I still love. ^^;; Though he does make my skin crawl sometimes. Ah, I changed Jiruga to Gilga since that is what his last name is I guess. Still getting used to it.

Read and review if you like. Otherwise, I'll see you in the next chapter. Which should be up soon. I've decided to get into the holiday spirit for my fics and update them all by New Years.


	3. Lost in the Fog

She awoke between white sheets and with a catheter strapped to her wrist. Blinking around dazedly, her eyes alighted upon a familiar figure perched on a stool nearby. His shock of pink hair stood out in the gloom of the room, and his amber eyes seemed to glow behind the reflective lenses of his bone spectacles. He didn't move from his watchful post as she stirred, gloved fingers neatly crossed and casually balanced between his knees. Only his eyes shifted, flickering over to hers as they opened and seeming to capture them as she diverted all of her attention to him momentarily. Enthralled, she hardly noticed his lips moving as he spoke.

"Good morning Nel. Of course, it's never really morning here is it? But you get what I mean."

Nel's forehead furrowed as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. There was something very wrong here… a reason she had to get away. But her head felt muddled, like it was stuffed with cotton, and her body was sluggish and slow to respond. Breaking away from Szayel's steady gaze, she looked down at her arm, frowning at the tube taped to it. That wasn't right. She wasn't sick or anything, though her head ached something fierce. No. Things weren't making sense, but her thoughts were too scattered to gather up and piece back together. Turning back to the pink haired man, who she vaguely recalled was named Szayel, she voiced her confusion haltingly.

"Szhayel… what? What'th going on?"

Szayel smiled, seeming pleased as he straightened up in his seat. Reaching behind him, he retrieved a notepad and a pen, clicking it once as he returned to his watchful posture.

"Do not be alarmed, Nel. You are in one of my labs and currently on an IV drip of sedatives to calm you down. I'm afraid you suffered an anxiety fit earlier."

"Why… why would I do that?"

Szayel shrugged, ambivalent.

"It would seem you experienced some misgivings about my personality. I am rather a difficult person to get along with."

Misgivings about his personality? She closed her eyes, concentrating. Struggling with the haze that clouded her mind and made everything seem detached and indistinct. Distantly, she heard him slide off his stool to stand by her cot. She cracked one eye open, watching him surreptitiously, though he still caught her in the act. He offered her another smile, which strangely enough was not comforting at all. It lacked something very crucial, an element she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Your hand if you please?" he asked mildly, and at her hesitation, sighed theatrically, golden eyes fluttering shut for a moment. "I'm just going to check your heart rate and oxygenation levels."

"Why?"

"For future reference. It's standard medical procedure. It also gives me an idea of how you are doing. Now, your hand?"

"Will it hurt?" she asked nervously, not quite knowing what to expect. He shot her a funny look, his lips quirking upward, though this time in amusement. That's what it was, she realized. What was missing in his other smiles; emotion.

"No, this won't hurt at all. See this little monitor here? This is what records the data, via a sensor I clip to the end of your finger. No pinches or pokes," he explained, gesturing to the device and showing her the clip he referred to. It didn't look painful… but there was something about him she didn't quite trust. In spite of growing doubts, she held out her hand obediently and he clipped the sensor to her finger. After watching the screen for a moment, he recorded a few notes and removed the sensor from her finger.

"Sit up please, and try not to jostle the catheter," he prompted, removing his cloth gloves and replacing them with gray nitrile. She eyed these with marked suspicion, and he raised an eyebrow at her change in temperament. "Is there a problem?"

"What're the gloveth for?" she asked flatly.

"Habit," he replied flippantly, though he followed this up with a further explanation, "Ordinarily I change gloves to avoid contamination and maintain proper sanitation. Now are you going to sit up or must I make you? Although I could conduct part of the exam while you are supine."

She shook her head, straightening up warily, and he walked over to her. Smoothing down her dress, he pressed the flat circle of a stethoscope to her back.

"Breathe in deeply, then out," he ordered, "And again," as he slid the metal bit to the other side of her back. He unhooked it from his ears as he withdrew, letting it hang around his neck as he wrote down a quick observation. When his hands went to her throat she tensed and he paused, eying her with amusement again.

"Relax. This is only a standard physical examination."

"What are you doing?" she asked, stubborn and nervous.

"Checking your lymph nodes. If there were an infection, they would be swollen. I wouldn't want to do anything if you're sick."

"You're not gonna run tethts? Like, blood?"

"I drew blood when I inserted the catheter," he replied, fingers pressing under her jaw and probing down her neck. They skipped over her chest, hands feeling down her ribs and pressing down firmly on her abdomen.

"Any tenderness?"

He'd already drawn blood? Without asking?

"Any tenderness?" Szayel repeated, sounding a little impatient. She shook her head. "Please bend forward then."

She obeyed, misgivings growing all the while as he felt up along her spine to her neck. She didn't know much about this man, but she had a feeling people were supposed to ask before running tests. He was being polite and asking now, but she suspected that if she did not cooperate, it wouldn't turn out to be optional after all. One way or another, he would get his observations. And that's when she remembered.

Szayel was jotting down the last of his observations when Nel ripped the IV catheter out of her arm and shimmied down the side of her cot. She swayed on her feet as she reached the floor, suddenly dizzy, but she refused to let this stop her. Tottering, she started forward, only to be stopped by a hand on her shoulder as Szayel interfered with her impromptu escape attempt. He made disapproving sounds as he lifted her, kicking and squirming.

"I was conservative with the sedatives due to your size and age, but it would seem from your heart rate and activity I could stand to give you more. No matter; I'll find your perfect dosage soon enough."

"Lemme go you pink haired bathtard!" she hollered, wriggling desperately, and he blinked at her use of language.

"You've a surprisingly foul mouth for someone so young," he observed offhandedly, "Now, if you're going to insist on giving me trouble, I shall be forced to put you under again."

"You were gonna do that anywayth!" she accused, scowling.

"True," he conceded, tucking her under his arm like a sack of potatoes so he could retrieve his pen and notepad, "But it's up to you how soon you want that to happen."

She continued to flail for several minutes as he walked out of the room and started down a hallway, only growing cooperative after she'd exhausted her energy. Despite her liveliness, she was still pumped full of sedatives and tired easily. Hanging limp in his hold, she stared ahead morosely, only losing some of her listlessness as Szayel walked into a new room. The first thing to greet her as he flipped the lights was the sight of a clinical metal table with restraints, and she instinctively balked at it, starting up her squirming again. Szayel closed the door behind them with his foot, and it shut with an unpleasant click. Nel swallowed, apprehensive.

"What are ya gonna do now?" she asked anxiously as he carried her over to the table.

"I'm going to conduct a few tests," he replied. Nel braced herself as he reached the horrible metal thing, expecting to be strapped down immediately, but to her surprise, he only set her down and stepped back. Not quite sure what to make of this, she gripped the edge of the table and watched him like a hawk, expecting all the while for him to grin and jab her with something and say, "Just kidding!"

"What kind of tethts?"

"My, you do ask a lot of questions. But no telling. I'm afraid my tests are secret. Instead, why don't we talk a bit? Tell me a little about yourself. What you like, what you don't like. What you're afraid of. Anything."

"Can I athk you thingth too?"

Szayel's eyes brightened at her boldness. Ordinarily, such cheekiness from a test subject would have been sufficient grounds for a reprimand, but he didn't mind her spunk so much. This would be one of the few times she'd have the clarity and strength to act rebellious, so he'd allow her this concession.

"That depends," he replied carefully, "On whether or not you choose to cooperate with me. I'll choose which questions I wish to answer, but remember Nel… if something I say upsets you and you overreact, then I reserve the right to revoke that privilege."

She nodded grudgingly, not that she had much of a choice. She had to accept whatever allowances Szayel indulged her, because if she complained, she'd receive none at all. It was entirely unfair, but she wasn't in any position to argue.

"Good," Szayel said with satisfaction, and retired to a black one-armed sofa, notepad and pen in hand. It was an odd piece of furniture in the otherwise utilitarian room, which boasted cabinets filled with wicked looking instruments, all meticulously organized. Neliel watched him settle himself, yearning silently for the small amount of domestic comfort the couch offered as the chill of the metal examination table seeped through her raggedy dress.

"What is currently on your mind right now? Right at this very instant, what are you thinking of?" he asked, and she swung her legs a little as she thought about her reply. He noticed idly that she was barefoot. That would have to remedied, along with the rest of her disgraceful attire. She could probably also do with a wash; no sense in wasting clean clothes on a dirty child.

"I… I'm thinking of my brotherth…" she finally replied, "How I want to see them."

"Even if they aren't really your brothers?" he prompted. She shook her green curled head.

"They are. We're family. Even if we aren't blood related."

"So your brothers. You love them?"

"Of courth. And they love me too," she replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He spun his pen between his fingers, tapping it idly against his lips as he considered this bit of information.

"You say of course, as if it is a natural thing," he posed, speaking up again, "But it isn't so obvious to me. What is it about them that you love?"

"Well they… play wif me and make me laugh and make a fuss if I get hurt so I know they care about me. They protect me from bad thingth like other Hollowth, they're just… they're alwayth there for me. Alwayth with me. Being with them maketh me happy."

She glanced over at him as she finished awkwardly, looking for his reaction. Searching his face for some sort of understanding. A connection made. Sympathy. Comprehension of what she meant, but she only found clinical interest. Face falling slightly, she made a halfhearted comment.

"I gueth you don't know what that feelth like, not having a family."

"I do, actually," Szayel remarked, remembering his blonde twin, "One brother; Illforte Granz. One of Grimmjow's Fracción."

"Oh," she said simply, looking surprised, "Don't you ever thpend time with him?"

"No," Szayel replied coolly, "I don't really like him. He doesn't like me either for that matter. We avoid interacting as much as possible."

"Why? Did something happen?"

Szayel was quiet as he considered whether he wanted to answer her question or not. Though she didn't know it, it was incredibly personal, reaching into his past as a human. So after a minute, he offered an irreverent half shrug and brushed off the majority of her question.

"He's weak and has proven himself to be worthless to me. What more is there to say?"

She offered him a look of disgust but said nothing more, and he settled for watching her shift nervously in her spot on the table.

"When are the tesths going to begin?" she finally asked, growing uncomfortable with the silence.

"All in good time. So being with your brothers makes you happy. What else makes you happy?"

"Freedom," she said simply, and his pen stilled, hovering over the paper. He'd been poised to write, but her reply gave him pause. He looked at her thoughtfully, half expecting her to continue or elaborate, but upon receiving no further explanation from her, spoke up.

"Freedom is an abstract concept. One doesn't think much of it until it is called into question or unless it is denied. I'm almost certain freedom was not something you thought about until now, so for the sake of conversation, why don't you list a few more tangible influences?"

"If you're going go record what I thay, write freedom down," she insisted, and he directed a long, searching look at her. Out of nowhere, she seemed to have gained a dignity she'd lacked before. She still looked small and vulnerable and uncomfortable perched up on the stainless steel table, but a curious poise now filled her. His vision flickered, and for a moment he saw the ghost of Neliel Tu in this child, gazing serenely out at him from her gray eyes… then the phantom faded and he was left feeling slightly disoriented. Shutting his eyes for a moment to collect himself again, he wrote the word down.

"Fair enough. What else?"

"Playing eternal tag, treasure hunting, chasing the Hollow lizhardth and butterflyth, lithening to Pesche tell joketh," she reeled off, regaining some of her childishness. He noted them down one by one as she continued, somewhat disappointed with the content. They seemed so juvenile, so simple… but perhaps that was she delighted in? The simple things. Perhaps it was his own complex existence that removed him from these commonplace emotions. It wasn't until she reached the end of her list that he regained interest. "Pretty thingth… hearing storieth… making new friendth."

"Making new friends?" Szayel inquired, quirking an eyebrow. As far as he knew, this wasn't an activity she engaged in. Nel sighed, deflating.

"Well, it would make me happy if I could. But Pesche and Dondochakka don't let me 'cauth they say ith dangerous."

"They're right you know. Hueco Mundo is a dangerous place," he commented lightly, privately enjoying the irony of that statement. It wasn't lost on her either as she gave him a frustrated look.

"I don't think everyone hath to be a terrible perthon here. Someday, I'll make a friend."

"Friendships are bonds, and bonds make one weak," Szayel remarked, "Which is why I make my Fracción. Their failings are my own failings, a source of error I can more accurately predict."

"Friendship doethn't make you weak. It maketh you strong," Nel said staunchly.

"Oh really? I seem to recall it was your bond with your Fracción which resulted in your downfall, Nel. If you hadn't been so blind with anger, you might have avoided Nnoitra's trap and avenged them successfully," the scientist commented cruelly, and she flinched, looking guilty. But she would not drop her case. This was a core belief of hers, and it would not be shaken so easily.

Something to break later on then.

"What about you then?" she asked, "What maketh you happy?"

It wasn't an unexpected question, but he was still left feeling at a loss for how to answer for some time. All the while she watched him deliberate with himself, eyes never leaving his face. Judging him silently for the time he took in forming a reply.

"What makes me happy?"

He got the feeling it should have been an easy answer, something elementary. Everyone knew what made them happy, what brought them pleasure in life. Szayel had his hobbies, his experiments, but did those necessarily make him happy? They brought him satisfaction certainly, for what was more satisfying than learning and finding that knowledge with one's own hands? He was often bored, so he'd conduct more experiments to fill the time and satisfy the intellectual needs of his mind.

"That would require understanding what happiness feels like," Szayel said lightly. At her shocked expression, he smiled, "Which I think I do, before you determine that I am an utterly heartless being. But do you really want to know what makes me happy, Nel? I can guarantee it won't make you happy to hear it."

Swallowing nervously, she nodded, and his faint smile widened, eyes glittering behind his glasses. There was something very unpleasant about that grin; darkness lurked at the corners of his upturned lips, and his white teeth flashed almost predatorily in the light of the room.

"I'm only happy when I'm occupied. When I have something to work towards or someone to work on. As there is limited medical expertise in Las Noches, I double as the primary physician here, documenting the health of the Arrancar here and keeping records on everyone. This suits me just as well; I like to stay informed on things as you already know, but it isn't exactly the most thrilling of jobs.

But that's alright. Because as limited as medical knowledge is here in this intellectual wasteland, technological and scientific expertise is practically unheard of. I am alone in that realm, save perhaps for Lord Aizen himself, and that gives me a great deal of work to busy myself with. Las Noches is not a stronghold of peace and diplomacy; we are the base for an army that will one day topple the order in the current world. As such, the things I am asked to research lie along the darker vein of science. Which suits me just fine.

For you see Nel, what brings me the greatest delight is destroying people. What thrills me is their despair, seeing them weak and writhing in pain by my hand, begging clemency. Completely and totally under my control. That knowledge, the knowledge that their lives are mine, is a heady thing. Intoxicating almost. I like to hurt people, to subject them to the worst torment imaginable, both psychological and physical. And then, when I am done, to see what is left of them. If there is anything worth saving, or if they are suited only for the morgue. Usually by the time I am through, it is death they beg for if they are still capable of coherent speech."

Her response was predictable, even if some part of him held out in the idle hope that she would stay. But the way she trembled, the paleness in her face and the tautness of her limbs betrayed her. They always would. That was understandable. It was a natural reaction. She hadn't the strength to go up against him, so all she could do was…

Run. Jump off the table and flee for the door. Stumble as he was there with Sonido in a second, tripping her up and catching her before she hit the ground. There was a stinging sensation in her neck as he stuck her with something. Struggling, frightened, she screamed at him.

"No! Lemme go! I don't want that!"

"Test one complete," he commented quietly as he strapped her to the table, immobilizing the green haired child. She was crying again, tears and snot making a mess of her face, and the fear was plain on her face as her limited movements began to grow sluggish from the effects of the drug he'd administered. "Such a pity really."

"Doesh thith make you happy?" she cried, looking up at him through blurry, darkening eyes.

"Uncooperative subjects have no right to receive answers," he reminded her with a detached air, refraining from answering her question until her eyes had lost their light, glazed over with the fog of anesthesia. Looking down upon her profile for a long moment, he fetched a tissue and cleaned her face so she would not accidentally suffocate while she slept.

Truth was, the answer to her question was a little more troubling than he wanted to concede. This did not make him happy, the sight of her reduced to such a pathetic state. Nor did it fill him with guilt. He simply felt… nothing. And that itself said something.

He fixed an oxygen mask over her face to ease her breathing. He hadn't given her enough to cause her respiratory distress, but Szayel was a meticulous man; he left nothing to chance. Taking down a few final observations and notes, he clicked the pen closed, dropped it in his pocket, and stowed his notebook under one arm. The nitrile gloves were discarded in the garbage, needle disposed of in a sharps container, and cloth gloves pulled back over his now bare fingers. However, just before he left the room to attend to another of his projects, he paused over his newest subject.

"No, it doesn't. Not really," he admitted to her prone form, then departed. Maybe he'd bring her a sheet later, so she didn't catch cold. It wouldn't due for her to sicken now when it seemed he was in the clear to operate from her blood results and physical exam.

And even that didn't excite him. What made him happy, oddly enough, was just having her there. Clearing his mind, Szayel set off to see to his other experiments.

* * *

**A/N:** Merry Christmas everyone! :3 It's such a relief to get this written and uploaded; now to finish my other fics in time. ^^;; (I write this at 2:30 am on Dec. 23rd)

Well, compared to past and future chapters, I consider this one to be pretty tame. I still have no idea how long this story is going to be, but it's still supposed to remain short. I'm predicting four or five more tops, with three chapters that will be written for sure. When the others will be written and posted, I am not sure. I write as the urge hits me, or if there is a scene in the current chapter that I really want to write.

Not that it matters. This is a rare pair, so I do not expect much traffic for this story. For those handful of SzayxNel lovers out there, I hope you enjoy it. Honestly, this is more of an experiment for me than anything else.

So, timelapse warning in the chapters ahead. It isn't going to be a solid timeline like the first three, mostly because I don't want to devote a separate chapter to each thing he does to her and breaking it up gives it that dreamlike reflective quality I rather adore.

Read and review if you like the story. Critiques and complements are both welcome. (Think of it as a Christmas present to me; helping me improve my writing.) See you in the next chapter, and if you don't celebrate Christmas, than may you pass a happy random Friday/Saturday (depending on your timezone.) ^^


	4. Surrogate Playthings

**Disclaimer: For those of you who dislike mxm, please take this chapter with a grain of salt. Or skip through it I suppose.**

"_Don't… please… Don't do thith to me…"_

_ "Why, Nel? Why shouldn't I?"_

_ "It hurts…"_

_ "Just a little. I've administered enough analgesic to dull most of the pain."_

_ Sniffling followed. Her tear stained face with its tormented gray eyes stared into his amber irises. She was barely conscious, her pale chest exposed and blooming red under his scalpel. She'd shamefully insisted he leave covered what he wasn't working on, so he'd drawn a sheet over her pelvis and legs. He hadn't even received thanks for this considerate gesture; typically, he wouldn't have cared whether or not his subject- male or female –was naked on his operating table. Modesty had no place in his lab._

_ "Why do you have to hurt me?"_

_ "I told you. Because I like hurting people."_

_ "I don't like being hurt."_

_ "Most people don't, and even the masochists I come by don't usually like what I do to them either."_

_ She whimpered as he made another incision, and he admired the way her skin resisted before parting smoothly under his blade, revealing the layer of yellow, glistening fat that sat underneath the epidermis and dermis. To a non-surgeon, skin seemed like something delicate, but the truth was that it took more pressure than one expected to cut through. His strokes were practiced and clean; he'd grown adept at judging Hierro and how much strength to apply with different patients._

_ Clamping back the flaps of skin he'd cut, her chest cavity was finally exposed. He dabbed away some of the blood obscuring his sight and ran a tender finger over one of her ribs._

_ "As Hollows, we were heartless beings. Our Hollow masks were formed from our hearts. Yet biologically, we still possess them. I wonder then, is the heart something literal or figurative?"_

_ She had no response to this. She was too delirious to dredge up a coherent reply, and he smiled affectionately down at her._

_ "Then what about you? As Arrancar, we regained some of our humanity. We ceased to be bestial, mindless, hunger-driven creatures. But still that nature remains. It is why we do not love. But you claim to."_

_ "Szhayel…"_

_ "I wonder… can I learn of this love by studying your heart?"_

_ He laughed at her dizzy, terrified look as he reached between her ribs to touch the palpitating organ, then withdrew again._

_ "Will you be a dear and give me your heart?"_

_ "No! No, don't!"_

_ "There is no need to worry. I can grow you a new one, and as an Arrancar, your body can withstand much more trauma than a human's ever could."_

_ She sobbed, shaking her head weakly as he prepped a knife, appreciating its immaculate stainless steel surface for a moment. Her lungs inflated and deflated with her panicky breathing, obscuring his target somewhat, but not enough to really impede his progress. He scored the sections of ribs he intended to remove, then snapped them cleanly at the defect line he'd cut into them, moving on to her heart. And as she screamed, Szayel raised the bloody, fluttering thing so she could see it. Her face turned pale and took on a greenish hue as she fainted, and he indulged a moment of examining it as it weakened, gushing out crimson fluid that reeked of copper and salt all over his clean white clothes._

_ The heart was promptly set aside in favor of a syringe full of green liquid, which he flicked to rid it of air bubbles before injecting the arterial stump with a generous dose. It swelled, a new heart beginning to form as he brushed this same liquid over her severed ribs and ruptured veins. Cleanup was efficient, with a final layer painted over the incisions he'd made to leave her skin as flawless as it had been when he'd started. After that, it was simply a matter of transfusing blood back into her and installing her on a drip of liquid reishi. She'd never even entered surgical shock…_

-.-.-.-.-.-

Meetings were so tedious. They'd always bored him, for he generally had better things to do with his time than sit around at the table in the war room with the other Espada. At least half of the ten usually didn't want to be there either. Stark would rather be sleeping, Barragan detested them all, Hallibel preferred the company of her Fracción, Nnoitra had little patience for orders, and Grimmjow would rather be out killing things. The rest were either too devoted to Aizen or too moronic to care. And he himself… well, it really depended on the content of the meetings. In some cases, Aizen would have a task for him that was genuinely interesting. Other times, he languished among his intellectually challenged compatriots.

Today, he'd had another presentation to occupy his time. Another progress report to deliver. But while he'd stood and presented his findings to Lord Aizen, his mind was elsewhere; occupied with a green-haired girl who still lay recuperating secretly in his laboratory. The scientist longed to get back to her, to see if she'd awakened yet, or if she still slumbered, eerily still under the effects of the painkillers and anesthesia that flooded her system. To someone who was unfamiliar with etherized patients, she might have looked dead, but one could still tell she lived from the faint color in her lips and cheeks and the subtle stir of her chest as she breathed. A scene from earlier that morning played repeatedly in his mind, and he lingered over the morbid visuals, savoring how beautiful she'd looked splayed out on his table. Not so beautiful as Nelliel Tu, but pretty enough in her pain.

As the other Espada and the trio of Shinigami filtered out of the meeting hall, he remained behind to organize his notes, enjoying the relative peace that followed the departure of his peers. However, one man remained behind, lingering conspicuously. He stood, hovering over him like a lanky bird of prey as his dark eye watched his progress enigmatically. Finally giving in to his feeling of foreboding, Szayel spoke up, addressing the Quinta.

"What is it you want, Jiruga?" he asked quietly as he finally looked up to meet his eye. Nnoitra smiled back unpleasantly, hands shoved casually into the pockets of his hakama. His grin was really closer to a leer, but that was a pretty typical expression for the tall man.

"Ya know what I want, Granz. We've worked together before. Ya've probably come to understand the way I think pretty well, haven't ya?"

Szayel stood, papers arranged neatly in a portfolio and tied closed. He shot the man a look of distaste. His tone was soft, but filled with disdain as he replied.

"Of course. Your Hollow nature is exceptionally prevalent. You hunger more than most Arrancar. For power, sex, prestige. So what is it you want this time specifically?"

Nnoitra's leer widened, his white teeth flashing in the gloom of the hall.

"Let me give you a hint. I'll let ya put the rest together yerself, genius."

The Quinta flickered out of view, stepping into Sonido, and Szayel only had time to tense before he was behind him, hot breath fanning over the back of his neck as he bent him forward over the table roughly, pinning him against the cool stone. Szayel's breath hitched with nerves as Nnoitra rubbed up against him promisingly, hardening arousal apparent between them.

"Sex then," he commented, voice surprisingly even despite the anxiety that bubbled in the pit of his stomach.

"Bingo."

"Hallibel not cooperating with your advances?" Szayel mocked, "Can't bully her into bed like you can with me?"

Nnoitra hissed behind him, plainly incensed by his taunting commentary, but rather than deigning to reply immediately, the man pulled his legs apart and licked up along the back of his neck, pressing him even harder into the table as his breath curled lazily over the damp trail his tongue left behind.

"I don't think you're in a position to make cocky remarks, Octava."

Szayel shivered slightly at the darkness in his tone, but otherwise kept his composure remarkably intact. It was true; he was in a bad position, but the situation wasn't completely hopeless. He had ways to get out of this relatively unscathed if he played his cards right.

"No… you can't even bully me into bed. Instead, you settle for fucking me against a table. How crude."

Nnoitra slammed his head down against the table, and his skull made a horrible cracking sound as it hit the stone. His vision spun for a moment before he recovered from the mild concussion, chuckling madly. He was so impatient. So barbaric and unsophisticated. It really was incomprehensible that he had to work with him, that he'd ever worked with him in the past. If he'd been glad to help him take down Nel purely for the appeal of tearing her down from her pedestal and watching her fall from grace, then he'd be happy to lure Nnoitra into the desert and murder him. Or perhaps have him on his table, writhing and screaming in agony. The Aspect of Despair, despairing at his hands. Hahaha… wouldn't that be rich…

"Fuckin' crazy bitch," Nnoitra growled at his eccentric mirth, hands sliding forward to untie his hakama and slide them off his hips, grinding into his ass. Szayel continued to laugh quietly until he felt the taller Arrancar slip a finger inside his now exposed Hollow hole and hook it in the rim of the void. His chuckling faltered as a moan escaped him, and he could practically feel Nnoitra grin behind him as he stroked it again victoriously.

"Ah…"

_Shit…_

"That's right. Moan for me you little slut," the Quinta purred, teeth closing over the back of his neck as his fingers continued to molest him. Szayel's hips arched away from them, back against Nnoitra, who pressed forward into him. His body felt warm, multiplying the heat his own body had begun to radiate as Nnoitra's ministrations sent little flares through him.

"I'm… only a slut… if I'm willing. If I want you. If I voluntarily… give myself to you. But… it seems the best you can do… is rape," he murmured haltingly, breath uneven.

"Ya fuckin' want this, Granz. Despite ya callin' it rape, I don't see you protesting."

"You disgust me."

"Then scream. Beg me to stop. Cry for help from your precious Aizen-sama, or perhaps Ichimaru or Kaname," Nnoitra husked, pulling his own hakama down behind him. Szayel felt his spidery hand glide over his hip, then circle down into dangerous territory.

_Time to stop messing around…_

"Wait…" he breathed, twisting his head to look back at him. Nnoitra paused, listening, violet eye dark with lust.

"Why?"

"Wouldn't you rather have me willing?"

Nnoitra considered his words, then eased up on him slightly, grin back in place though he still looked wary. Of course he wouldn't buy his offer immediately, even if it appealed to him. Savage as he was, Nnoitra was cleverer than most seemed to give him credit for.

"I'm listening," he said.

Szayel shifted, turning around to face Nnoitra and tugging his hakama up just enough to lend him an ounce of modesty as he slid up onto the table, legs dangling casually. His shirt was still hitched up slightly as he leaned back, exposing a few tantalizing inches of skin as he directed a lazy look towards the tall man. Predictably, his eye strayed lower, but he managed to keep most of the irritation out of his tone as he made his offer.

"I'd rather not be raped here for all the world to hear and see if they so choose. So instead, if you _must_ have me, why don't we go somewhere more private?"

Nnoitra considered this offer for a moment, violet eye narrowing suspiciously.

"You're not shitting me?"

Szayel rolled his eyes theatrically, crossing his legs as he gave him a disdainful look.

"You're three ranks higher than me, fast, much stronger physically, and with a denser spiritual pressure. What hope have I of escaping you here outside of my lab complex? I'm vulnerable without my traps and equipment and ability to manipulate my own domain. You know that. It's why you're accosting me here."

"'Course. I'm not fool enough ta pursue you in yer wing, Granz. I know ya pull nasty shit on unwelcome visitors. When even Ichimaru's unwillin' ta vist ya, that says something," he commented after another moment's consideration, lascivious grin returning.

Szayel's fingers twitched, resisting the impulsive temptation to reach into his pocket and take out the preloaded syringe he carried on him at all times outside of his wing… but it was far too soon. At least he was in the beginnings of a position now to do something about Nnoitra, but sometimes he loathed having to be patient.

"So, do we have a deal?" he asked of the Quinta.

"Maybe," was the ambiguous reply he got. Szayel's fingers curled against the table, tensing, and the clarification that came a moment later didn't put him any more at ease. "See… I kind of like the idea of screwing you on a table. It's kinky. I don't mind a bit of voyeurism myself, and when it comes right down to it, I doubt anyone's gonna bail you out, unless it's to extort a favor from ya later."

Szayel's mind raced to think up a suitable counter offer to this, suspecting all the while that Nnoitra was playing him here. Seeing just how far he could push him for the privilege of privacy. He didn't care; he had nothing to lose. In his mind, he was getting laid tonight. Whether on a table or in some secluded room, it didn't matter to him. But it mattered to Szayel, and that was a bargaining point. Leverage. And people thought he was incapable of even the most rudimentary strategy…

Of course, Nnoitra had a few flaws he could exploit as well. His greed for one. Impatience; another. And then there was the bit of information that he'd just let slip. He liked kink. Not a surprise by any stretch of the imagination, but something useful, for he turned his argument on its head. With a cocky smile, he leaned forward, hand slipping around to cup the back of Nnoitra's head. One finger found his Hollow hole and skimmed the edge lightly, teasingly. Nnoitra's eye darkened with lust as he withdrew, fingers catching slightly in his long black hair, though he did look guarded at his sudden change of attitude.

"If it's kink you want, there's so much more to do in private. Like I said, I'll go willingly. I know you like to play games with your victims, Nnoitra. You're a sadist, both in and out of bed. So if that means chains, ropes, gags… I won't protest. Much."

The idea appealed to him. He could see it in his face. All he needed was confirmation now…

"Deal," Nnoitra finally agreed, and Szayel exhaled lightly, realizing he'd been holding his breath. There was no cause to worry. He had the situation under control. Nnoitra was a predictable man…

"Good," Szayel said.

"No going back on your offer now," Nnoitra warned lazily, eyeing him appraisingly. He could just imagine his fantasies as he entertained them, and the ideas made him shudder internally. Never, never would he _willingly_ submit to someone like Nnoitra. What a perfectly revolting concept. Someone like himself, degraded to _that_ level.

"Of course not. I'm a man of my word."

Nnoitra laughed.

"Ya aren't an honest man, Szayel. Yer as crooked as me."

Szayel's eyes narrowed at the casual usage of his first name, and he made his displeasure known quickly and tersely.

"That's Granz to you, Jiruga."

"Whatever. 'm not gonna call you Granz while I'm fuckin' yer tight ass. 'Sides, I want you screaming my name. My proper name. None of this Jiruga shit."

He reached up, tweaking one of his nipples brusquely through the fabric of his shirt, and Szayel felt it twinge sharply, stiffening. He masked the disgust he felt as Nnoitra pulled him off the table, and Szayel was forced to tie his loose hakama one handed to keep them from falling off his hips as he grabbed his folio hastily and stuffed it under his arm. Nnoitra didn't bother to wait for him to keep up, and his long legs ate up the distance quickly as he stalked down the halls to his wing, dragging Szayel behind him. When they reached his suite, he pushed through it impatiently to his bedroom, and Szayel only had time to drop his papers before he felt himself pulled against Nnoitra.

The look the lanky Espada gave him was one of hunger as he trailed a proprietary hand down his spine, grabbing his ass when he reached it and squeezing as his eye glimmered playfully. Szayel gnawed his lower lip reflexively, consciously keeping his body relaxed despite his desire to thrust a knee up between his legs and drop him painfully. Seeing the hostility in his eyes, Nnoitra smirked, letting him go and stepping back. He walked over to his bed, sitting down with his knees spread and arms balanced on his thighs casually, watching him all the while.

"Strip," he ordered.

Szayel hesitated. Stripping meant losing contact with his hakama, which meant losing contact with the syringe. Which he was not about to do. Still, Nnoitra expected a bit of a show, so he decided to comply with half his demand. Lifting a hand to his lips, he tugged off one glove with his teeth, watching his expression all the while. He seemed to be enjoying himself, though Szayel was surprised. He'd have expected a man as impulsive as Nnoitra to be all over him, taking him immediately. But… since he was reluctantly letting him have him, it seemed he wanted to draw this out. Perhaps humiliate him more. Bastard.

He removed his other glove casually, then unzipped his clingy shirt, letting it fall to the floor. Szayel waited a moment, then tilted his head, speaking up.

"You sure you don't want to undress me yourself?"

Nnoitra looked amused.

"And make me work? Yer doin' a well enough job on your own."

Szayel inhaled lightly to steady himself, then walked over to him. He hadn't been able to tie his hakama well, and they hung tantalizingly low on his frame. Reaching forward, he took up Nnoitra's hands, bringing them up to rest on his hips. The Quinta looked up at him for a moment, then he flashed him a smile and his grip became firmer. He rubbed his thumbs appreciatively over the sensitive skin that covered his pelvis, hooking them under the fabric and easing it down teasingly.

"For someone who hardly leaves his wing, you seem awfully confident," he commented. Szayel made a disparaging sound at his implication.

"I'm neither ignorant nor well practiced. I simply have some experience."

"How much?"

"I don't really think that's your business."

He felt himself suddenly hoisted into Nnoitra's lap, and he instinctively straddled his waist, finding a more comfortable position as his knees pressed into his sides. Nnoitra leaned forward, licking over his chest. His mouth found the nipple he'd molested earlier and bit down on it, drawing a hiss from Szayel as his hands fisted in Nnoitra's shirt. The Espada sucked, pulling, then let it go again with a soft pop. Szayel tried to ignore the way it made him feel, balancing arousal with revulsion as Nnoitra straightened, gazing into his face with an infuriatingly smug expression on his face.

"Don't matter. You'll cry like any whore by the time I'm done with you."

His hands slid up and down his sides, thumbs brushing over his bare stomach. Then one glided up his back to twine in his hair, dragging it back violently so his throat was exposed. Szayel gasped slightly at the sudden jerk, whining as Nnoitra attacked his neck, biting down hard and molesting the skin, leaving welts and marks that would show up red and purple later. Thank god he wore a high collar so it wouldn't arouse any commentary, unlike most of the Arrancar in Las Noches who dressed to show skin. His other hand snuck down to his lower back, pushing him against Nnoitra so their bodies molded together.

Nnoitra's mouth traveled down to his collar, leaving a trail of marks- sometimes bloody -in its wake. He laved over these with his tongue as he moved up to his jaw, pausing to nip at his ear before finally dragging his head back down into a brutal kiss. Szayel's lips were crushed against his and his mouth violated as Nnoitra forced his way inside, stealing his breath and making him feel nauseous as his tongue gagged him. He tasted blood as his lip split, salty on his tongue. Blood…

That was right. There was another way to handle Nnoitra, even if he was separated from his hakama and their precious cargo. But there was a tenuous line between control and danger, and he risked stepping over that now. Especially when he felt Nnoitra's fingers slide under his hakama to twist inside his Hollow hole again.

His body jolted, cry muffled by Nnoitra's mouth on his. Nnoitra broke the kiss a moment later, and he slumped against him slightly, moaning raggedly as he tried to catch his breath. Vulnerable to pain, Hollow holes were also sensitive and exploitable in other ways. Nnoitra's fingers dug inside persistently, driving Szayel mad with need as his fingers curled against his chest, cutting shallow crescents in his skin as he arched against him. Nnoitra's limited patience lasted only long enough to hear his vocalizations grow loud and pleading, then Szayel found himself plucked off his lap and shoved down into Nnoitra's mattress, sprawled awkwardly across his bed. There was a moment of respite as Nnoitra paused to fetch something, then he felt his arms pulled straight above his head and wrists lashed to the headboard. His hakama were ripped off a moment later and cast aside, making him shiver at the sudden chill.

Something was attached to his throat. It felt silken against his abused skin, but he had a pretty good idea what it was, and the temporary relief it provided would not last long. Proving his suspicions, it was tightened slightly, constricting his breathing, though not enough to cause problems. Yet. He flinched as Nnoitra grabbed his hips, raising them and hunching over him as he bit down on the void he'd come to resent. Szayel cried out at the pain and sick pleasure it gave him, resolving to fuck this man up as soon as possible. This wasn't a slight his pride would suffer; he would get revenge for this treatment. When he felt his legs spread and Nnoitra's hair brush against his thighs as he licked up along the inside, _that_ was his limit. He could wait no longer, nor would he let Nnoitra get any further.

"You got yer tattoo on the inside of your left thigh? Kinky bitch," Nnoitra chuckled, pausing. Facing the headboard of Nnoitra's bed, Szayel smiled bitterly.

"Yes Nnoitra. Too bad you don't get to do anything about it."

It was a simple thing to feel out his cells in Nnoitra's body. They'd already combined with his central nervous system, taking him over and waiting for his command. His parasitic ability evolved as a Hollow to compensate for his lack of physical strength. He didn't have to go hunting for prey; prey came to him, attracted by his weak appearance. And the moment they attacked, the moment they tried to devour him, they were snared. His. Caught by his lure.

Nnoitra was no different, hungering for him in other ways. He supposed he should be grateful for his crude, violent nature and his penchant for rough sex. Focusing, he willed the man to stop and felt Nnoitra freeze behind him. There was a moment of silence as Szayel panted slightly, recovering, then Nnoitra snarled.

"What the fuck?" he demanded, pissed that he'd been stopped just short of his goal. Szayel grinned, back in his element. He collected himself despite the indignity of being sprawled naked on Nnoitra's bed and replied in an even tone.

"Just an ability of mine. I won't enlighten you as to how I am able to do this, but your nervous system is now under my control. Resistance is futile."

"The hell it is!"

Still, in spite of Nnoitra's vehemence, he was unable to resist his control. Idiot. He'd told him there was no point in struggling, but then, fools would always believe that if they simply _tried hard enough_, they'd be able to compensate for their lack of ability. And this was why Nnoitra had come to him in the first place so many years ago. Because he was a talentless, ambitious barbarian, and he couldn't do the job without his help.

Oh, vindication was sweet. He savored it as he ordered Nnoitra to untie him. Predictably, he refused. Szayel only smiled and repeated his command, this time willing him to do so as well.

"Untie me."

Nnoitra couldn't disobey. He could picture him gritting his oversized teeth as he reached up and undid his restraints. Szayel pushed himself upright, rubbing circulation back into his slightly chafed wrists. He knew they'd have been red and sore if Nnoitra had gotten his way. Turning, he slid off the bed and gathered his hakama, pulling them back up and tying them before he faced Nnoitra, a sadistic grin curving his lips.

"It doesn't matter whether you try to take me on a table, my wing, or even in your own bedroom, Nnoitra. Fuck with me, and I will make you regret it. You cannot control me."

He picked his way back over to the bed, climbing up and crawling over to Nnoitra, who still knelt in the middle. With a dark but playful look, he pushed him down onto his back, straddling his waist as he reached up and lashed his wrists to the headboard above his head as he'd done to Szayel. Then he proceeded to strip him, divesting him of his clothes and tying his ankles to the posts at the end of the bed, making sure to pull the hemp ropes he'd fetched from Nnoitra's "toy box" taut so he was bound tightly. A gag went into his mouth to silence any further commentary from him, and at this point, he had Nnoitra glaring at him fiercely. Hovering over him, Szayel peeled his eyepatch back, revealing his Hollow hole, which he reached into and yanked on brutally.

Nnoitra's body jerked slightly against its restraints at the agony, but began to writhe for different reasons as he worked the sensitive spot, amber eyes glowing at the torment he saw there. Nnoitra couldn't reach up and touch him, couldn't reach down and touch himself. There was no way of relieving the ache he knew formed in his body as Szayel tortured him, delighting in his suffering and the muffled noises he made. And when his eye finally rolled back and his body tensed, Szayel was there with a slim rim of plastic to block him.

Nnoitra was close to passing out, but Szayel wouldn't let him. Not yet. He slapped his face, grounding him and keeping him awake with the stinging pain. As Nnoitra gazed up at him with desperate need and seething malice, Szayel tilted his head, letting his fingers glow bright pink with the beginnings of a cero. He concentrated the glow to one, letting it incandesce with energy before he lowered it to Nnoitra's chest. And as the man screamed behind his gag and tried in vain to twist away from it, he burned a large eight into his chest and stomach, lips drawn back in a crazed, savage expression. The smell of charred flesh rose to greet him, and it was as sweet a scent to him as the aroma of a fine cup of vanilla chai tea.

"Remember this you fucker," he breathed, then left him lying there, pulling on the rest of his clothes, gathering up his folio, and running a hand through his mussed pink hair as he departed. He fingered the plastic container that contained the dose of tranquilizer in his pocket idly as he walked down the halls to his domain; it remained unused, waiting for another day.

He only realized how tired he was when he stepped into his home, the adrenaline high wearing off and leaving him exhausted. Instinctively, he began to walk towards his bedroom before he remembered that he still had a guest here. Nel. He'd been gone for longer than he'd intended, and it was possible that she'd gotten up. Escape was unlikely, but… she was a determined girl. Feeling a twinge of anxiety, he bypassed his bedroom and headed straight for the lab.

She was awake alright, sitting up on her table and staring off into space with a dazed expression on her face and dressed in a clean white gown. As he walked into the room, she looked up, giving him a pitiful look as she shrank away from him nervously. However, some indeterminable part of her seemed to sense that not all was right with him, for she made a comment that surprised him.

"Shzayel… are you ok?"

He'd only had her for a week, and she was asking about his health? Or state of being? Or whatever she'd discerned from his features in that mysterious way children seemed to be able to do. Closing the door, he walked over to his stool and sat down, watching her for a moment before replying.

"I am fine. I just ran into a bit of unexpected trouble with a coworker."

"Oh…" she said, not really knowing how to reply to that. He took the initiative and asked her a question in turn.

"And how are you feeling, Nel?"

"I'm cold," she said plaintively, wrapping small thin arms around herself, "The table ith hard and the blanket ithn't very warm…"

He considered this for a long moment, mulling over an idea before finally voicing an offer.

"If you're good and don't try to escape, I can move you to a cot when I'm not immediately experimenting on you. That will be easier on your body."

She eyed him guardedly for a moment before nodding. She'd stopped her desperate flight attempts a couple days ago and had yet to attempt escape again. She seemed fairly resigned to what he did to her.

"Ok. I promith…. I'll be good."

He offered her an indulgent if tired smile as he slid off his stool, walking over to her and helping her down off the exam table. Her hand was cold as he took it and led her down to another room, and though he knew she wouldn't get hypothermia due to her natural resilience as an Arrancar, it didn't make it any more pleasant. And perhaps she was more susceptible given her diminished spiritual body… Hmm… something to take into account…

"Here," he said, opening a door and flicking on the lights. It was a small room with a solitary cot; he didn't use it very often, so it could probably use some airing out and new sheets. For now, it would do. He walked over to the storage cabinet, pulling out a pillow and some more sheets, which he spread over the bed, pulling them back for her. She walked over to it after a moment, climbing up and snuggling under the sheets before turning back to look at him.

"What're you gonna do now?" she asked, looking slightly apprehensive. He shrugged his shoulders lightly.

"Sleep. I'm tired. I might get up and do something later, but then again, I might just take the rest of the evening off. It's been awhile since I've given myself a leisure day."

She looked slightly relieved, and he noticed for the first time the dark circles under her gray eyes. She hadn't been sleeping well, and it was starting to affect her health. How careless of him. Perhaps it was prudent that he'd moved her here.

"Kay. Ah… goodnight Shzayel," she said.

"Good evening," he corrected before inclining his head slightly and turning to leave. He flicked the lights off, leaving the door slightly cracked so the room was not pitch black, but couldn't help making a final comment before he left for his room.

"Don't run, Nel. This freedom that I'm giving you… don't abuse it. Not until I understand you, I won't let you go," he said quietly.

If she answered, he didn't hear. He was already walking away as soon as the last word left his tongue. When he reached his bedroom, he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his shirt and gloves, drawing back the covers to slip underneath. He curled into his mattress, comforted by its softness and the warmth from his body that the blankets trapped, and gradually, the Arrancar began to drift off. But even as he slept, he could still see her pale face and sad, dazed expression, judging him silently through a child's gray eyes.

* * *

**A/N:** So, I apologize for those of you who really find male slash/yaoi distasteful. However, that is a dynamic in this story, though not a major one. Nnoitra's a slimy character in this fic, and I've chosen to make him an opportunist, regardless of gender.

I guess you could say there's a twisted triangle between Nnoitra, Szayel, and Nel in this fic. Romantic triangle is not the right term for it, so I'll just say relationship triangle?

Thoughts on the chapter… it's longer than my others, even though I expected it to be short. But I like the length and flow and content, so I'm pretty happy with it. Ah… to comment on the green fluid, it's basically what Mayuri uses as regeneration serum. I figure Szayel would have invented something similar since he'd have a use for it, what with all the surgical torture he does. Next chapter will focus on Nel and Szayel more closely, so you can look forward to that.

Read and review if you liked it or want to leave feedback or a critique or voice an opinion or whatever. It's really up to you as the reader whether or not you want to say anything, though I love hearing from you. Otherwise, I'll see you in the next update. Till then.


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